The Aftermath
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: Overwhelmed by guilt, RIck attempts to comfort Daryl after Merle's death. Rick/Daryl slash, one-shot


He'd been at the fences all night. Thrusting his hunting knife through skull after skull of biting, snarling, decaying flesh. Tears mixed with sweat and rain, so that from a distance, Rick couldn't be sure whether he was crying at all. The only clue either way occurred every quarter hour like clockwork, when Daryl would suddenly crumple in onto himself, raking his hands painfully through his hair and burying his face into his chest. Rick could see his body trembling violently, even from his perch by the prison's inner gates.

But Rick let him continue, understanding this was what he needed. Daryl's brother was dead, and in a lot of ways, it was Rick's fault. But watching Daryl in this kind of pain was worse than torture. This was the man who'd sacrificed everything for them. He'd given his blood and sweat, saved lives, saved his own children when Rick wasn't able. And now this world had stripped the hunter of his last living family member, and Rick wasn't sure Daryl could take it. Daryl could take on everyone else's pain, but coming to terms with his own?

So Rick let Daryl self-destruct. He watched him for hours, until blood had spattered every inch of him, and the rest of the prison had long since gone to sleep. Rick allowed him to continue until the physical and emotional exhaustion weighed so great on the archer that he couldn't help but intervene.

Rick knew that Daryl must have realized he'd been watching him. Daryl, fail to notice something? Fat chance. But he didn't acknowledge Rick when he strode up behind him. Instead, he laced his fingers into the walker-less fence and stood stone still, trying his best to curb the quaking of his form.

"Daryl," Rick called out with his trademark authoritative tone, "you need to come inside."

To his surprise, Daryl didn't continue to ignore him. "M'fine," the archer grunted.

"No you're not. For one thing, you're shivering so hard I'm surprised you're standing. You've been out here for hours."

"So have you," Daryl bit back, and that confirmed it. He knew Rick had been watching him.

"That's true. And if you need to stay out here until dawn, then we can do that. But I'd much rather the both of us go inside and get warm and dry." Rick emphasized the 'we' in his statement. He wouldn't leave Daryl alone in this; staying was the absolute least he could do.

Daryl turned around to face the sheriff at that, his expression skeptical. "Don't need ya out here," he said quietly.

"I know," Rick replied just as softly, "But I'm stayin' just the same. I'll be out here as long as you are. So you just let me know when you're ready to go in."

Daryl's eyes darted around the prison yard, searching hopefully for something else to kill. But there was nothing else, nothing but accepting Rick's offer, or rejecting him outright.

"I..." Daryl began, frowning when his voice cracked. "We...we can go in. M'ready."

And with a look of weary defeat Rick had never seen grace Daryl's features, the hunter let Rick lead him inside. True to form, Daryl immediately diverted towards his cell once safely indoors. Rick raised a hand to stop him, but then thought better of it, and said, "Daryl, wait."

"What?" Daryl grunted roughly, but Rick patiently ignored the tone.

"You're covered in blood. Still shivering from the cold. You need to wash off. Could use it myself, to be honest."

Daryl appraised him for a moment, seeming to decide whether this was worth the fight. "Alright," he eventually muttered, trudging towards the showers. He didn't think twice about stripping down once they made it to the secluded cellblock. Even with Rick there, he was too emotionally drained to care.

Daryl pumped up the hot water until it was scalding, then stripped off his remaining clothing economically, acutely aware of Rick's eyes on him. He figured the ex-sheriff must feel guilty about Merle. There was no other reason for him to be hovering around. But Daryl couldn't give less of a shit how Rick felt. The only thing he could grasp at the moment was pain. It was all-consuming, blearing out his vision until the world swam around him.

Pressing two hands against the tiled wall, Daryl hung his head to his chest and let the water stream down his back. Vaguely, he registered Rick taking his place at the shower next to him. There were no dividers in the shower room, only walls lined with showerheads and drains under their feet.

Merle had spent months at a time in places like this. He'd never talked much about what it was like inside, just carped and moaned about how badly he needed to get laid the moment he got out. Soon after, he'd be out looking for his next fix. But his brother had tried. He had- his last moments being the most obvious example. Merle had tried to be better to him, prove that they were family. Maybe he'd never been able to tell Daryl the things he wanted to hear: I shouldn't have left you, I'm sorry, I love you. But Merle had done his best to show him how he felt. He'd died for him. And that...Daryl would never forgive himself for that.

Daryl's tensed arms trembled violently, and as Rick watched, caved. Abruptly, Daryl was racking his forehead against the tiles. Once, and then again, his whole body shaking. Fleetingly, Rick thought this might be how Daryl cried. The instinct to physically shed tears would have been expunged from him long ago, judging by the scars on his back. But the tremors rocking through Daryl's body said it all.

It was too much to bear, and Rick couldn't stand by and watch him like this for long. Knowing full well that he might end up with a broken nose for his efforts, Rick moved towards Daryl's shuddering form. He pressed a firm hand to Daryl's shoulder, and the hunter immediately jerked away, startled.

"Don't," Daryl growled. But the reaction was instantaneous and visceral, no thought behind it. Rick replaced his hand on Daryl's shoulder, with less hesitancy this time.

"Lemme get the blood off," Rick asked him, with the tone of a parent coddling their child. Rick could feel Daryl's muscles twitch under his grasp, and watched with fascination as the hunter slowly, so slowly, relaxed. And had he not been watching Daryl so closely, he might not have seen it; but the hunter gave him a slight, curt nod.

Recognizing full and well that this might be his first and last invitation, Rick quickly grabbed a soapy washcloth from the bench behind them, and inched closer to Daryl. Rick could feel the tension radiating off of him. He brushed the cloth lightly against Daryl's back, and the man hitched in a pained breath and froze.

But since Rick was sure that any whispered reminder asking Daryl to relax would be met with hostility, he ignored the reaction. Instead, he moved the washcloth in slow, purposeful circles down Daryl's back, wiping away days of sweat and caked-on blood. When the cloth reached the apex of Daryl's muscular ass, Rick dutifully dropped to his knees.

He cleaned Daryl's feet, and had fleeting thoughts of the whore Mary washing Jesus. Then he ran the cloth slowly up Daryl's calves, kneading at sore, juddering muscles, and up between his thighs. He didn't fail to notice the way Daryl gasped and twitched when the cloth came dangerously close to nudging at his hanging sack.

Briefly, Rick let himself wonder whether Daryl might be enjoying this. Even more briefly, Daryl actually was enjoying it. It had been years since he'd let someone touch him like this. And never his back. Even though the tense minutes where Rick's hands and his scarred skin had been separated by only a fraying cloth hadn't been nearly as painful as he'd expected, it wasn't until Rick had dropped to his knees that Daryl had finally been able to relax. But then the warm, wet cloth brushed teasingly over his balls, and Daryl became acutely aware of how hard he was.

What the fuck was happening? A minute ago he was inconsolable, halfway to collapsing on the shower floor in a ball. But now he was painfully erect, and all at the hands of a man who'd barely touched him. Heat was rising to the tips of his ears, and Daryl could feel Rick rise to his feet behind him.

A warm hand firmly grasped his bicep, and Daryl's body accepted the gesture without a flinch. The unwilling complacency surprised the pair of them.

"C'mon, lemme get your front," Rick asked quietly, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage. It was only once he'd had Daryl at his relative mercy that he'd realized how much enjoyed the hunter this way. Naked. Wet. At his mercy.

Daryl didn't respond, but Rick refused to be dismayed. "Look, Merle and I weren't always on the best of terms. But in the end, he came through for us. He came through for you. And I'm sorry you lost him," Rick paused a beat, collecting his thoughts, "But Daryl, you need to know, you still have family."

It took a moment for Daryl to respond. He never knew how to respond when people told them they cared about him. In truth, no one ever had before. Not his mother. Not Merle. But then Daryl looked back over his shoulder at the ex-sheriff and mumbled, "I know I do."

A second later, he allowed Rick to pull his body until it was facing him. He watched warily as Rick's eyes travelled down his body, taking in his erection, then flowed lazily back up to meet his eyes once more. It took Daryl only a second more to realize that Rick wasn't just accepting of his current condition, he seemed pleased, albeit surprised.

Mindlessly, Rick reached out to touch him. Touch him there. And Daryl immediately shrunk back against the wall.

"Rick, don't," Daryl bit out desperately.

The ex-sheriff cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say, 'You're telling me one thing, but your body is saying something else.'

"I didn't..." mean to get embarrassingly hard while you washed me off "I ain't" a fag "I don't" know what the hell I'm doing, Daryl stuttered out.

But Rick was having none of it. He took Daryl firmly in his hand, and stroked him once, then twice more, experimentally. Daryl's head immediately fell forward between his shoulders, and his eyes slammed shut, as if he were trying to block out the feeling. But the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the way his mouth had fallen open told Rick all he needed to know.

"Daryl, lemme do this for you. I want to do this," Rick gently pressed. And though he could see the poorly concealed terror in Daryl's eyes, the fear of rejection, there was also undeniable arousal there. His irises had darkened to a deep navy Rick had never seen. And there was a beg hidden behind blown-out pupils that Rick couldn't help but want to take hold of.

His hand had never left Daryl's member. But realizing now what he wanted to do, Rick tightened his fist, and stroked upwards, running an adept thumb over the head. Daryl let out a groan from deep in his chest, and tilted his head back against the tiled wall. Smiling at the small success, Rick began to slowly stroke him, a measured up and down movement with a twist of the wrist every so often that had the hunter panting noisily. Daryl wasn't going to fight him anymore, Rick would make sure of it.

When the former sheriff sunk to his knees, he thought for a moment that Daryl would bolt, leaving him naked and kneeling on the shower floor alone. But despite his fearful expression, Daryl remained in place, practically frozen.

He gasped when he felt Rick lap greedily at his head with the flat of his tongue. Rick grasped his thighs tightly, noticing the way they were trembling from the feeling. Neither man had done this before, but Rick feared that any sign of hesitation on his part would send Daryl running. So he kept calm, reminding himself that he was a man and he knew what he liked. Figuring out what Daryl liked couldn't be that different.

Rick wrapped his lips around his teeth, then slowly lowered his mouth down Daryl's throbbing length. Daryl's entire body jerked at the sudden heat. Everything was tight, and wet, and warm, and Rick's tongue writhed along the underside of Daryl's cock with such sureness that Daryl nearly collapsed. But Rick's strong hands held him in place, stroking his skin soothingly as his mouth hollowed around Daryl's cock.

The intensity of the suction had Daryl reaching blindly for Rick's gray, curly locks, seeking anything to hold onto as he rode out the pleasure. His breathing was ragged, and shallow, but aside from a gasp here and there Daryl hadn't made a sound. It wasn't until he felt his cock nudge the back of Rick's throat that he let out his first choked-back moan.

And Rick moaned right on back, approvingly. The vibrations shot straight to Daryl's balls and he couldn't hold back this time. "Fuck...ahh, fuck," Daryl groaned. His hips stuttered unintentionally and his fingers tightened in Rick's hair.

Rick wrapped his lips around Daryl's cock and bobbed up and down slowly, paying careful attention to each grunt and sigh Daryl let escape his tightly-pursed lips. His eyes never left Daryl's as he worked him, enjoying how Daryl fought to keep his eyes open, to watch what his leader was doing to him.

He felt Rick run his fingertips over trembling thighs until he reached Daryl's twitching balls, and cup them with a grip that should have felt too tight, but instead felt like absolute perfection.  
>"Rick," Daryl whimpered desperately, closer than he thought was possible in this short time.<p>

"I know, I've got you," Rick murmured, continuing to stroke Daryl up and down, "I've got you, Daryl. I've got you." His mouth augmented his hand's movements, and soon Daryl was bucking into his mouth in earnest. He stuffed his fist into his mouth, trying to drown out the sounds Rick was eliciting from him, but it was no use.

"Please," Daryl begged outright, though he wasn't sure for what. "Please, Rick..."

His name on the hunter's lips, breathed out in such a desperate moan, did something to Rick. His hard cock rubbed against his jeans uncomfortably, but he chose to ignore it. Now, he was more determined than ever to push Daryl past his point of no return. He wanted to wreck him, leave him trembling and weak in the best way possible. And when Daryl groaned out unabashedly as Rick tightened his fist around Daryl's cock, Rick figured he was on the right path.

But Rick didn't want Daryl to beg. He shouldn't have to, not now, not after everything he'd been made to bear today. So he picked up his pace, tongue laving at the underside of Daryl's cock and flicking back and forth over the head until he could feel the nuts in his hand quiver and draw up.

"Fuck...oh, fuck...Rick," Daryl moaned as his cock swelled inside Rick's mouth, and then he was shooting down his friend's throat, feeling the flutter of Rick's throat muscles as he swallowed spurt after spurt of thick come. Rick's hands went instantly to Daryl's sides, helping him lower himself slowly to the tiled floor as his legs gave way.

Daryl was still panting harshly, eyes only half open, but he was lucid enough to register when Rick's fingers went to his hair, stroking gently.

It took several minutes for Daryl's breathing to slow down, and for him to relax into Rick's touch. But as soon as Daryl seemed remotely calm, Rick offered, "You're gonna be alright."

Skeptical eyes met Rick's, but he stood his ground. "You will Daryl. I'll make sure of it."

Daryl nodded at that, "S'what we do."

Rick gave him a small smile, "It is...but, you alright? With what just happened?"

Daryl's eyes bore into his for a moment, and then he shrugged noncommittally.

"Gotta know for sure, Daryl. I've gotta know that we'll be okay after this."

"We're good," Daryl said definitely, voice losing its tremor. His eyes darted down to Rick's crotch, "Ya never...want me to?..." but Rick quickly shook his head and smiled.

"This was about you. M'good."

Daryl let out a ragged breath, and stared down at the floor, suddenly acutely aware of his nakedness.

"We should be gettin' back," Rick announced, pulling Daryl to his feet along with himself. "Been a long night."

When they reached their row of cells, Daryl gave him a curt nod and retreated to his den. It didn't take him long to fall into a sated, drained slumber. And though Rick was beyond exhausted, he couldn't manage to sleep just yet. No, it wasn't until he came hard and fast into his discarded shirt with Daryl's name on his lips that he was able to close his eyes and let sleep take him.


End file.
